It’s been a while since i’ve written one like this. In my efforts to do something new and not continue sticking my head into the same rabbit holes, i’ve mostly turned to literal iterations: Is what it is, as it goes, so they say. Certainly there were themes played upon but nothing remotely allegorical. I don’t recall exactly how the story came about, but what it’d be about and the progression of it, that was all solidly in mind at the get-go. Never sketched but i knew what i wanted to do with it.
While i don’t remember exactly how it came about, i certainly know the tapestry it’s painted on. The island i was reflecting on, ruminating on, thinking about, wondering about, and i was considering the experience of my brother-in-law, who’s from Mangaia. But the reflection on Teraina started with a video that randomly popped up in suggestions. Looking for that link, i got sucked into another on Rakahanga. And since that took us to the Cooks, i figured i should find Mangaia. Absolutely incredible islands.
Watching that video and several others began the reflection on them. Rumination on them. Amusing thoughts towards, if you were ever stuck on a tropical island… From those thoughts the story sprung with input from the forces that are always around. The ones i’ve been trying to avoid, but this comes at a bit of a different angle. Less about overcoming, and more about recovery.
As always, the island is a metaphor for LSD – joke: The LSD is literal.
It had been a fairly average life for a reasonably average man. He was born into a decent family, did well enough in school to continue going for a while, and ultimately landed a job. And that’s where everyone thought he’d make his mark, because his work was quickly recognized. He was young, at the pinnacle of his career, and his future looked bright by anyone’s measure. Unfortunately, he was at the pinnacle of his career. That is, he would never achieve greater success, and he and his career would take a sharp nosedive, shortly thereafter.
But that never bothered him. What bothered him was how to keep a promise that he’d made.
Sometimes humorous, occasionally poignant, and at least once, alliterative, Ben-nao discovers that broken bones don’t hold a candle to broken vows.
Daniel Endicott 